


don't need to be an angel

by alfie_aurel



Series: ficlets and prompts [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Gen, cw: mention of death, err i got v emotional about damian. have this., this family isn't perfect but god damn they are trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alfie_aurel/pseuds/alfie_aurel
Summary: Coming back to life is an uncanny experience. Damian knows that better than most.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Series: ficlets and prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092521
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	don't need to be an angel

**Author's Note:**

> ok i can't say i know when this is set exactly continuity-wise but roughly a few years after damian's resurrection; bruce and damian are batman and robin. 
> 
> prompt = the return 
> 
> (forest fire by brighton came on while i was writing and oh my god that is a song and a half.)
> 
> (also may i suggest recovering the satellites by counting crows as a song for this fic it has no relevance but is vv good.)

Coming back to life is an uncanny experience. That statement is blatantly obvious - having to remember your soul being stripped and your body being entombed is unnatural. End of story. (Or not. Ha.)

But still, the feeling of _your body is not your body - it is your body - it is your body but not this body - not this mind but still you think_ persists. 

Damian shivers, curling his feet underneath him as he lies in bed, arms tucked around his head. His skin feels too tight for his body, and there's a gaping hole in his chest that won't heal. It's late, or rather, early - patrol has come and gone, Drake and Brown and Todd have all returned to wherever they spend the meagre hours before daybreak. He's alone, and he swears there is blood on his hands. 

Well, he is not exactly alone. His father is still in the Cave, working on an unsolved case or ten. He'll see him tomorrow, world crises permitting. Pennyworth - _Alfred_ \- is most likely with him as well, cajoling him to rest. Damian should be there. But no, he has been sent upstairs. It is a school night, after all. He should be asleep. 

But yet, he feels alone. He feels scared, but the terror is not his own. The moonlight casts shadows on the floor. They don't dance; everything feels still. Stifled. Damian knows this room used to be his father's when he was a kid. (In fact, Damian had insisted on it when he first arrived in Gotham.) Distantly, he wonders if his father had ever lain here, too scared and too restless to sleep. Parallels and all that. It's strange, how death haunts his family. A cycle of nightly near-misses, deaths and resurrections. One wonders when their luck will run out. 

The Wayne family always returns. Most of the time. 

Damian is drawn out of his musings by a knock at his door. Three taps, one long, two short. 

"Hey, kiddo? You up?" Dick's voice comes from the corridor, eager and earnest despite the late hour.

Damian sits up against his pillow, running a hand through his hair where he has lain on it and grabbing a book from the nightstand, opening it to a random page. If he's up, he might as well feign activity. "Yes. Er - you can come in."

Dick opens the door, light flooding Damian's room. He moves to sit on Damian's bed, the occupant (unsuccessfully) pretending to be engrossed in his book, before pausing. He shivers, running his hands up his arms. 

"Jeez, it is cold in here - babybird, let me close that window for you."

Damian hadn't noticed that. Some detective he is. It explains the chill. 

Dick closes the window, rocking up on his toes to reach the latch. "Why these windows are so tall, I'll never know. God knows how Alfred cleans them, right?" He closes the curtains and turns back to Damian, grinning easily. Damian doesn't smile back. 

Dick angles his head, focusing on the book in Damian's hands. 

" _Emma?_ Damn, Dames, did Jason give you that?"

"Uh -" Oh no. "Yes."

(Todd had burst into Damian's room a few days ago, yelling something about literature and little brothers and "finally having someone to educate." Damian had been painting a picture of Alfred, he wasn't paying attention. He dropped a pile of books from the manor's library on Damian's floor, then promptly ran out of the room. He had been meaning to return them at some point.)

Damian chanced a glance down at the page. He had opened it to a random page; Emma was rambling on about Jane Fairfax.

"Can't say I've read it. I'll text Jason later to say you're reading it though, I'm sure he'll be thrilled." Dick said, sitting on the end of Damian's bed.

Damian closes the book, and puts it back on the nightstand. "Tt. Sure." He mutters, resigning himself to more of Todd's passionate rants about characterisation and language and parallels - hm.

Dick smiles again. A few years ago, Damian would have taken it to be mocking. 

"What do you want, Grayson?"

"Nothing, babybird. Just wanted to see how you're doing."

Damian crosses his arms. "I - I am fine." Curse his stutter.

"You sure?" Dick asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"I am sure." Damian replies, clasping his hands in front of him. Mortality and bodies and blood and skin is far too much to distill into words Damian can say. 

Dick shifts up the bed, not touching Damian, but still present. "If you say so." He says, hushed. 

There's a moment of silence. Damian hopes Dick understands. He's self-aware enough to recognise his own, and his family's, difficulty with expression. 

Dick opens his mouth, as if to talk, but closes it. Instead, he holds out his hand. Damian takes it. 

The silence continues. 

Damian blurts out something unrelated instead, anything to fill the silence. It feels oppressive, as if the ghosts of those still living are inspecting him. He thinks they would find him lacking. "Grayson, is it - is it bad if I miss us? Batman and Robin, I mean."

"The dynamic duo." Dick finishes, staring at Damian's hand. There is no blood on it. Dick shakes himself. "No - no, I don't think so. We were great."

"We were." Damian says, softly. As if he might disturb the ghosts.

There's a muted noise from Dick's phone, and he uses his other hand to get it out from his pocket. "Sorry, text from Wally - wait, is that the time? Sorry, babybird, I'll let you sleep."

He lets go of Damian's hand, and gets off the bed. If Damian reaches after him, neither would say. If Damian slouches slightly as well, he would never admit it. 

Dick opens the door. He pauses for a moment, looking down at his phone. He turns back around to face Damian. 

"Hey, Dames, I'll be staying at the manor for a few days - if you do want to talk, I'm here." He says. "I can't promise I'll give the best advice, but I'll listen. Um - I'll have my phone on me as well, if you want to text."

Damian hesitates a smile back at him. "Thank you, Dick. I - I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well."

"You too, babybird."

The door closes, and Damian is in darkness once more.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! if you did, please leave a kudos/comment, it would make my day! also feel free to come chat about the batfam/send me prompts @ melanie-king on tumblr.
> 
> (i may come back and edit this at some later time, i wrote this in an evening)


End file.
